


Tales of People What Turn Into Different Things

by Zumberge



Category: Original Work
Genre: Altered Mental States, Doll Joints, Gen, Hourglass Expansion, Inflation, Latex, Parade Balloons, Possession, Slime, Stuffing, Temporary Mind Loss, Transformation, bimbofication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28542279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zumberge/pseuds/Zumberge
Summary: A collection of transformation-related stories, because uploading them one at a time struck me as making things needlessly cluttered for everyone.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	1. Bubble Gum (gum TF, inflation, clean popping)

Traci was a charming young woman, full of optimism, endowed with good looks, and utterly lacking in intelligence. Her natural expression was one of thoughtful introspection, a person preoccupied with their inner world. This lead others to believe that therein lied a wise soul, up until they made the fatal mistake of asked her what she was thinking about or, more likely, she spoke up on her own, wondering aloud if Alaska was real.

In an attempt to curb her behavior her parents began giving her gum to chew. She took to it, and it became a habit and interest that lingered to the present day, which found her in the college library studying, or what passed for it with her. Within earshot three of her peers were having a conversation and, distracted, she couldn't help but listen in.

"I was thinking of going out tonight and getting Five Guys," the first said.

"You too?" the second asked. "That's usually what I do most of my Friday nights."

"Well, great! Maybe we can go out to eat together."

The second looked perplexed for a brief moment. "...eat? OH! Right, right, of course, I'd love to have dinner with you!"

A third rolled her eyes. "I don't know how you can stand the food there. It's like, nine hundred calories per burger."

"It's good!" the first exclaimed.

"It's unhealthy. You are what you eat, you know."

Gears in Traci's head slowly began to turn and, after a few seconds, she swallowed her gum.

*****

Traci's diet underwent a radical change after that: Bubble gum-flavored Peeps, broccoli, soda, various other similarly-flavored foodstuffs, more gum itself, and strawberry milkshakes, which weren't quite the same but she assumed that the color was close enough. Several weeks later she noticed that her skin was definitely pinker, although a wiser soul would have realized that it was the result of too much time in the sun. Regardless, she was encouraged, and decided to step up her efforts.

She pushed the door of her dorm room open with her shoulder, entering and closing it behind her with her foot. In her hands were two bags, one with three boxes of bubble gum, the other with a large bottle of liquid antacid. Gum and milkshakes didn't sit too well in her stomach together, so she hoped drinking it would make her less nauseous. Besides, it was pink too.

Emptying the bags, she took a seat on the bed and sliced open the plastic around her purchases with a pair of scissors. Setting them aside on her dresser, she tore into the gum, shoving pieces into her mouth and chewing for a bit before swallowing and following it with a chaser of antacid. Traci was not the wisest of people, and in a way her body was smarter than her, immediately informing her of the inedibility of her meal. Still, she was nothing if not determined, and she pressed on.

As she finished the first box she noticed that she no longer felt full. It wasn't that she was suddenly hungry; it was more that the contents of her stomach and, in a way, her stomach itself were no longer an issue. As she no longer felt the least bit ill she took this as a good omen, and she pulled open the cardboard on another box and continued to dig in.

Partway through the second box her clothing began to feel clingy. The closest she could think of is how they stuck to her body when she was sweating heavily, but she was inside and relaxed, so that definitely wasn't the problem. As she polished off the box it had gotten to the point where she couldn't ignore it any longer and, standing, she began to remove her clothes.

What she thought was "clingy" turned out to be "sticky." As she pulled up her shirt the bunched-up folds seemed to adhere to the underside of her breasts, and removing her pants took far longer than expected when the fabric kept getting stuck to her legs. Her socks and underwear were as good as glued to her, forcing her to roll them up to take them off. Once she was done, however, she was rather pleased with herself, and sat back down to her meal, completely oblivious to the absurdity of her sitting naked in her room eating gum and drinking antacid.

The monotony began to get to Traci and she laid back on the bed, popping pieces of gum into her mouth every so often. Her mind wandered to this and that, and nothing of consequence or depth. It was relaxing, and gradually became more so as the bed began to press less heavily against her spine, hips, and shoulders, eventually reaching the point where she didn't feel it at all.

As she reached for more gum her hands brushed against the bottom of the package, fingertips dragging as they adhered ever so slightly to the cardboard. Dismayed, she sat up to look, only to freeze and gape at her hands. Her arms - no, her entire body - was a pale pink, exactly the same texture and color as-

"Gum!" she exclaimed. Jumping to her feet, she bounced around in giddy glee, solid curls of pink hair bobbing on her head. "I did it, I did it! I turned into gum! That girl was right after all!" She laughed. "Boy, I bet those other girls are sorry they didn't listen to her. They probably turned into gross greasy hamburgers by now."

She pursed her lips and blew, and a perfect bubble of gum formed. She smiled to herself and was about to blow into it again, but stopped when she felt a part of her body brush against her lips, and a pocket of air in the same. She deflated the bubble, taking it back into her mouth, and as she chewed the wad of gum shrank and disappeared. "Wow, weird. But kind of cool!"

Traci took a deep breath, putting her lips together before blowing. She expected a large bubble to form, and one did, in a way; her lips were pressed too tightly and the air stayed in her, causing her body to swell out around her waist, creating a spare tire around her midsection. Bewildered, she gave it a poke. Her body was soft, but there was a good amount of give beneath it. She inhaled and blew again, watching as her belly surged out another foot, and smiled. "Hey, -I- can be the bubble! This is -way- better than being a hamburger!"

Filled with newfound joy she began huffing and puffing, growing rounder. Her belly grew larger before spreading up and down, creating a wide curve from below her breasts to between her legs. Another blow and it rose up beneath her breasts, pulling them flat across her surface. Laughing, she did a swan dive to the floor, bouncing and bobbing on a body inflated to the size of an exercise ball. Squeezing her sides with her arms and knees she continued filling herself with air, rising higher in the middle of the room as her back and butt gradually became a single smooth curve.

She went to move her hands and feet, only managing to wiggle her toes and raise her fingers a fraction of an inch. The rest was stuck fast against her sides, the pressure and growth having melded it all together. Traci was worried, but only for a moment, concluding that the more gum that was in her belly, the larger the bubble she could make. Besides, she could figure out what to do about it later.

Thus she continued to grow, taking up more of her room. Bit by bit her limbs were absorbed by her belly, sinking into them and gradually becoming raised, faint contours before disappearing entirely. Rather strangely, she felt her fingers and limbs pressing against herself, but as they melded with the rest of her they almost seemed to flip, and she felt not her body but the air around her. Someone else might have thought about this and how it related to further changes they were undergoing, but Traci chose not to loom on at all, instead focusing on continuing to blow herself up.

By the time her limbs disappeared her head began to sink in, at first being drawn in to the neck, then the ears, then finally leaving her as a translucent pink bubble with eyes, a nose, and pursed lips, still puffing away. What was her back was pressed against the ceiling, what was her belly was spread across the floor, and what were her limbs and sides continued their spread outward, taking up more and more of the room as she grew thinner.

Behind her, she grew over the edge of the dresser, coming ever closer to the discarded pair of scissors. The bubble of her membrane-like skin loomed ominously as it crept towards them in time with her breathing. She gave one last puff, filling out a fraction of an inch, and the tip of the scissors poked against the gossamer gum of her body.

Traci's eyes went wide, and without much fanfare, she quietly popped.


	2. Spray-On (latex)

"'Latex-in-a-Can,'" Kiyoko read. "'Achieve that perfect love doll look!' Sounds promising, tagline aside."

She turned the can over in her fingers, inspecting the label. The front half was taken up with the name, slogan, and color - "Passion Red" - and was remarkably discrete, as befitting something you probably wouldn't to draw attention to in public, or at all. The back, meanwhile, contained simple instructions, below which was a list of ingredients in writing so dense she suspected Emanuel Bronner had a hand in it.

"'Apply to exposed skin and hair. Latex-in-a-Can will begin to take effect immediately. Warning: Do not overdose.' It doesn't say how much that would be." Kiyoko gave a light shrug. "I guess three cans would count as an overdose, right Alexandra?" She set it down and began unbuttoning her blouse. "Clearly it works; let's see how."

Shedding her clothing, she stacked it neatly on a table before taking up the can again and removing the cap. She gave it a few shakes, mentally debating where to test it out first before settling on her free arm and, extending it, sprayed it down.

The spray came out in a thick mist the color of cherries, and as it coated her arm it gained a wet-looking sheen. A few seconds later it began to tighten, clinging to her like a second skin, and her hand felt as if it were encased in a balloon. She ran the fingers of her other hand across it, expecting it to be tacky but finding it bone dry. The coating grew more snug and her arm went numb; Kiyoko went to try to peel it off but found it stuck fast. A moment later the numbness suddenly disappeared, and she felt her fingers on her arm, seemingly through the coating.

She inspected her limb, finding two seams on either side. She held her hand up to the light, and it shone through the fingers with no obstructions inside. "So that's it. It's not just a look, is it Alexandra?" Grinning, she added, "well, let's get our money's worth."

Giving the can another few shakes, she raised one leg, spraying it down before doing the same to the other. As she coated her thighs the substance grew tight on her feet, stretching like webbing across her toes, causing them to merge together in one doll-like mass. She moved up her body, areas going snug, then numb, then returning to normal but for the newfound shine and texture, and the seams on the sides.

After spraying her hips and between her legs, Kiyoko went to move on to her stomach, but was caught off guard when the fluid seemed to seep inside of her. Her hand twitched and she gasped, mottling her chest with a shower of droplets as she was hit with a wave of sudden sensitivity. She reached her free hand down towards the cleft of her legs, hesitating before pulling it away. "No. Not yet."

She took a seat, flopping back on the large, half-inflated purple cushion in the center of the room, the friction creating the squeak of latex on latex as she settled in. Taking a moment, she admired her new skin and how the transformation was more than skin-deep as the opacity of her waist faded as she went further down, giving her legs a faint translucency.

Leaning back on the giant latex balloon she applied more of the spray, covering her stomach before bringing it up, spraying over one of her breasts and connecting it to her coated forearm. The substance tweaked her nipple as it tightened around it, and seconds later she felt something firm push out from somewhere inside of her as two white air nozzles appeared from her navel and breast. She ran her fingers around the one on her stomach, giving it a gentle tug; it was as much a part of her now as the rest of her. Moving her hand up, she brushed the nozzle on her nipple, and an electric tingling spread from it across her body. "Maybe I'll play with these later." Her head lifted as she heard a door slam. "Or let someone else play with them. Chloe! Come look at this!"

"Ki?" someone said from out of view. "What are you doing back so early? I thought you-" As she entered the room Chloe's eyes went wide. "Ki? What did you do? Is that... painted on?"

Kiyoko held up the can before tossing it to Chloe. "No, this is me. All me."

"Wow. It really works." She stared at the can in awe for a few seconds before her brow furrowed, and she glanced around. "Wait a minute, where's Alexandra?"

"Oh, you know," she said, reclining on the purple balloon. "She's around."


	3. Experimentation (googirl TF, stuffing)

"This is it." Doctor Raquel MacAllister held up a sealed container, no larger than a salt shaker, filled with a thick, golden liquid. "The Holy Grail of ecology."

"It's not -the- Holy Grail," her assistant corrected her, "and ecology is a wide interdisciplinary field that includes the biosciences, chemistry, Earth science-"

"The silver bullet against ecological catastrophe! This formula is capable of consuming any and all hazardous substances, rendering them harmless to human life! Killing harmful microbes, breaking down toxins into inert materials, even separating heavy metals from fluids."

"I know," her assistant replied. "I was helping you with it for three months."

Raquel turned her head quick enough to send her red-brown hair into motion and gave her a withering look. "I wasn't explaining it for -you-."

"Speaking of explanations, you still haven't explained how it works. Understanding its potential anti-microbal properties is basic enough, but claiming that at the same time it's capable of universal chemical decomposition, filtration, and distillation sounds exaggerated at best."

She turned back to the container, holding it up to the light. "The actual science behind it is complex-" Her assistant rolled her eyes. "-but the easiest explanation is that it's a smart chemical that is activated, reacts, and replicates under a set of very specific, very controlled circumstances. All determined by me, of course." She walked away, setting it down on another table as she sifted through a hodge-podge of devices.

"...and only known by you, of course."

"Of course." She picked up a jet injector, slotting the container into the back and giving it a press to ensure it was in securely. "There was a confidentiality agreement in my contract. Nothing malicious, I assure you. Merely secretive."

"Now that the project is complete, perhaps you can explain what it is you've done. For instance, what are these circumstances of which you speak?"

"Allow me to demonstrate." With a flourish Raquel raised the injector, pressed it to her neck, and injected the contents of the container before tossing it away. Her assistant stared at the act, then gaped as her skin faded to an orange-gold color. Raquel raised and looked at her hands, the silhouettes of the bones inside becoming more visible by the second. "It's working." She laughed, a bit too loud and a bit too joyfully, as her flesh turned soft and translucent, leaving her as a human-shaped mass of gel surrounding a skeleton. "It's WORKING!"

The assistant's head snapped to and fro, searching the room desperately before her eyes fell on the emergency button. Charging over, she raised the glass protector, looking back at her superior: She was still ecstatic, caught up in her own perceived brilliance as her bones broke apart into small pieces and dissolved, to no apparent discomfort. With nothing solid to support it her clothing simply sloughed off, sliding through her and falling in a disorganized pile at - or in - the small pool that was her feet.

She slapped the button. "Security! We've got a situation in Lab Twelve! Seal the doors off immediately!"

"Doors?" Raquel gestured, scattering thick droplets across the room. "Where I'm going, I don't need doors!" She turned and crouched, lunging away from the door. Her body splashed against the floor, forming a wave that slid at uncanny speed, passing effortlessly through a ventilation grate before disappearing.

*****

Thick, golden strands of slime oozed from the vent, and a second later a large glob slid through, falling with a thick splat on the floor of the large concrete room. The splattered bits ran back towards the whole as it rose up as a single pillar, extending two pseudopods on either side before gaining detail, Doctor Raquel MacAllister taking on a more human form. Approaching a massive steel tank, she read the label on the side. "Chemical waste, highly toxic, do not come into contact with under any circumstances." She took a thick hose from its side. "Perfect."

She opened her mouth and went to insert the end of the hose, only to find it too large for her. Rolling her eyes and gently chiding herself, her jaw lowered, and she slid it into place, holding it steady with one hand. With the other she flipped a few switches and pressed a red button labeled "EMERGENCY PURGE," and somewhere in front of her machinery loudly hummed to life.

The contents of the tank began pumping into her mouth, and she noted that it had an interesting spicy-sour tang. It was quite flavorful - certainly not the sort of thing a normal person would notice, assuming they didn't immediately die after ingesting it afterwards, of course - and she could only conclude that her formula successfully altered her palate as well. She eagerly swallowed it down, her neck neck bulging with each gulp, the substance coming to rest where her stomach would be, a dark fluid sphere contrasting with the rest of her body.

Raquel rapidly filled in bursts, her belly quivering with each fit of swelling. Within seconds it was hanging off her frame in a massive mimicry of pregnancy; another moment, and the underside touched the ground, the sides extending well beyond her legs. She punched another button, causing the hum to rise to a whir as she tipped back. She hit the ground butt-first, her body jiggling as its contents sloshed, pushing out her back and sides, reshaping her to a golden teardrop with two legs along the ground, half-buried by a teardrop-shaped body tapering up to a relatively normal-looking upper body, both arms occupied with holding the hose as she stuffed herself with sludge.

As the gallons flowed into her she steadily grew, higher and wider. Inside of her the fruits of her research went to work, fizzing, heating up, combining and separating, forming a swirling cocktail of bubbles and chemicals that would have looked positively ominous through her translucent flesh to outside observers but, she would assure them, were in the process of becoming perfectly safe. That it required her to gorge herself, growing to scales unreached by humans, was merely a minor detail. As were the... unique sensations the reactions were giving her.

As her combined belly, hips, and backside expanded they spread across the room, shoving aside empty barrels and boxes. A few heavier objects stuck partway into her, and she frowned around the hose, annoyed by the interference. With a grunt she squeezed her body, rising up before pressing down, widening and flattening with enough force to send the offending objects tumbling away into the walls with a cacophony of banging metal and thumping wood. Her body shuddered and shook from the sudden movement, slowly returning to quivering in time to the flow of the fluid.

The tank was drained by the time Principal Investigator Simmons arrived, flanked by two security guards and a few hangers-on. The door opened in time for him to see what became of Doctor MacAllister toss the hose away, her head mere feet from the ceiling. She sighed deeply, rolling onto her back with enough force to set the floor trembling, her body wobbling for several seconds before coming to rest. Despite being composed of living goo, everything from her breasts up looked normal. Below that, however, her body dramatically flared out, towering over her, him, and rivaling the tank in size, a belly-shaped mound of yellowish slime with opaque fluids and solid particles pulled into spheres in the center.

It was quite possibly the largest, least appetizing gelatin dessert he had ever seen. "What," he began, "has happened here?"

She tipped her head up to look at him. "Doctor Simmons." Raquel belched, a low, loud rumble. "You'll be pleased-" She belched again. "Pleased to-" Another, drawn out for several seconds. Frowning, she produced a lighter from somewhere unseen, lit it, raised it to her mouth, pursed her lips, and blew out a long plume of blue flame. "Methane. Must've had a bacterial colony in there. I should file a report. Anyway, you'll be pleased to know that the formula was a success." She beamed, and somewhere out of view on her far hemisphere, she waved her feet on stumpy legs. "We now have a safe, efficient way to dispose of hazardous waste."

"You've... -eaten- it."

"Drank it, you mean." She gave her gut a pat. "Don't worry, it was delicious."

"Doctor MacAllister, this is human experimentation! Do you have any idea just how unethical this is?"

"It's not human experimentation if you do it to yourself. Besides, why would I have someone else have all the fu- or rather, who would volunteer for this?"

*****

"I heard that antifreeze is sweet," the first scientist said.

"It is," replied the second.

"I like sweet things."

"Don't drink it. It's toxic."

The first scientist eyed the container of thick, golden liquid.

"Don't you dare."


	4. Parade (parade balloon)

"This is such bullshit."

Tia was the very definition of "statuesque," standing just over six feet and fantastically fit. Though as head of the college cheerleading team she would have to be, as well as a competent and firm, yet compassionate leader. At the moment her firmness was coming to the fore.

"Tia," one of the other cheerleaders said, "we drew straws. You lost."

Worth mentioning is that the cheer team consistently maintained a minimum 3.0 GPA average, and Tia in particular had a 3.8 and built working Stirling engines in her spare time. So spare me your outrage, please.

"What's even the point of parades?" Tia retorted, folding her arms defiantly across her chest. "It's a bunch of people walking in front of other people when nobody even wants to be there."

"True," another said, "but we've done it for the past thirty-three years and the Dean isn't about to stop now... and, you -did- lose."

Tia scowled, hoping that by being imposing and defiant she could somehow bend reality to get her out of the situation she was in. She failed. "Fine," she sighed, uncrossing her arms. "Let's get this over with."

One approached her with a large aerosol can, pulling off the plastic top before spraying her down. The substance was thick and clammy, soaking into her outfit and coating her skin. Tia grimaced as her clothes stuck to her, layers of the spray building up. "I hope this is worth-" She stopped, sputtering and blinking as the other cheerleader brought the can up to head level, covering her face and hair before stepping away. "Was that really necessary?!"

She checked the can. "It says to cover everything so... yes. Make sure you keep your arms and legs spread."

Tia did as she was told, shifting her stance and keeping her arms away from her sides. The clamminess faded, replaced by an unpleasant stickiness; she wiggled her fingers and toes to keep them from attaching to one another but that only seemed to make it worse. Rolling her shoulders, she noted a gradual stiffness in her body that spread to her limbs, making them harder to move. With no small amount of effort she managed to turn her head briefly, looking down at one arm to see the details and blemishes on her fading away as it took on a uniform color with an unnatural hue and sheen - not her skin tone, but a rubbery facsimile of it. Her fingers stuck together and, somehow, she felt her clothing no longer touching her skin. She tried moving a part of her body, any part, and none of it responded; she couldn't even blink, and any hopes of speaking disappeared when the corners of her mouth turned up in a wide grin and stuck that way. There was a quiet series of squeaks and creaks, and she was suddenly overcome by a bout of light-headedness, feeling her body very slowly tip backwards before someone effortlessly caught her.

What she could only assume, others could plainly see: Tia was now a balloon, her cheerleading uniform printed on her rubbery body just as surely as her cheerful expression. Much to her dismay.

As Tia contemplated the choices which lead her to this point, the others set about securing ropes around her ankles and wrists, ensuring that the loops could slide freely. She wondered what for, up until someone rolled a large tank of helium into view.

_Oh no,_ she thought. _No, no, no no no..._

One of them uncoiled the hose, turning the knob on the tank a few times before giving the nozzle a tap, being rewarded with a burst of gas. She plugged it into Tia's navel, and Tia heard a hissing resonating inside of her as every part of her body began to stretch, her line of sight rising higher. The others watched her with a mixture of emotions as she grew to double her normal height, then turned their heads skyward as she felt her feet leave the ground.

_I'm floating? This is kind of nice, I- no, I shouldn't be... what was I thinking about, again?_

The cheerleaders took hold of the ropes as she ascended, pulling her into a face-down position overhead as the hose still piped gas into her. Every part of Tia swelled with helium, round and full but still human in shape even as she increasingly dwarfed them in size.

_So much gas, but more is coming in. So big. So... floaty._

One of them looked up at Tia before turning to another. "How much bigger does she need to be?"

The second checked the back of the aerosol can. "It says the average person takes an entire tank, so we'll let it drain before we walk her to the parade site."

_Parade? Parade sounds fun. Don't know what it is, but sounds fun._

A gentle breeze buffeted her body, limbs swaying as she reached her full inflated size, longer than two cars put together. Her fit figure had been reduced to a series of bulging curves, her smile a foot wide. Her thoughts circled in a mantra - "fun, floating, floating, fun" - as the last of the helium filled her; the tank emptied and they trailed off, and were then no more.

A cheerleader gave the hose a tug, freeing the nozzle from Tia's navel. Looking up at her she asked, "you think she's mad with us?"

Another shrugged. "She -did- lose, and if she's worried about being embarrassed I don't think anyone is going to make the connection." She waved. "Come on, this stupid tradition isn't going to do itself."


	5. Dolljoints (doll)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the man known only as "the dollfucker." HE KNOWS WHO HE IS.

Eshem would be the first person to admit that murder wasn't much of a career. She would know, after all; murder -was- her career.

It wasn't her first choice, but her father was a soldier whose family had a proud martial history, and he doubled down on it when the Kelannan Magocracy conquered part of her homeland. He and his men turned to guerilla resistance - or banditry, depending on who you asked - teaching her how to fight, how to hide, how to end fights before they began and, most importantly, how to stop mages.

In the end they won, not through any decisive battle, but by not losing. The High Council could bend reality to their whims, but no amount of power could stop the inevitable toll that time took on their minds. Kelannan's leadership grew more infirm and distanced from reality until finally, fed up with the demands of a cabal that refused to answer to the people, the citizens and military both rose up against them. Some were caught, the others fled. Many of the bandits returned to their lives in their now-independent nation, but some - Eshem included - left to hunt the ones which escaped, for justice, revenge, or profit, depending on who you asked.

Eshem's latest quarry had taken up residence in an abandoned prospecting complex built into the side of the highlands to the west, a trail of missing persons leading straight to him. None of the Kelannan archmages were known to practice necromancy - the thaumic divination tool she brought with her backed that up - but that raised the question of what -did- happen to them, especially considering how positively saturated the area was with wasted magic.

The cover of night and a route close to the cliff provided an unseen approach, and the door was left curiously unlocked and unbarred. Some tentative prodding revealed no wards, and it opened quietly into a chamber of rough-hewn stone and rotting wooden walls and doors. Small spheres of light hovered near the ceiling and walls in sickly colors, imperfect castings of such simple spells a testament to the decay of his knowledge. Though the way they pulsed and faded at irregular intervals was disconcerting, especially since the readings from the tool were frequently hitting the upper end of the register. If she had to hazard a guess, he was simply brute-forcing his spells, letting ambient magic leak into his surroundings. But if that was the case then being nearby was-

The needle twitched violently, and the walls and door ahead of her rattled before a ripple in the air rolled out like a shockwave through her, dense and stifling. Eshem's insides twisted in on themselves as her legs went numb, and she leaned into the wall to support her body. She retched, bringing up nothing as the brief knot in her gut faded to an unsettlingly still emptiness, and her knees shook before buckling beneath her, making an odd muted clinking against the stone floor as she fell on all fours.

She struggled to stand as the numbness spread to her arms, feeling no tension in her muscles. Trying to pull herself up with a protruding board, she watched as her flesh visibly changed; scars and veins fading away, followed by the creases and wrinkles on her skin as it turned to a uniform hue with a dull sheen. Her hands twitched as their shape was subtly distorted, the surface indenting in smooth concave curves around her knuckles and wrist as the joints between the curves formed spheres.

All the while her thoughts eroded; first the name and face of her quarry, then where she was, then who she was, her memory fading away. Soon she simply forgot how to move, and collapsed on the floor with a low clunk, unblinking eyes staring at the far door. For a brief moment she registered that it was opening, but all at once it was gone. When the decrepit old man in a threadbare robe noticed Eshem, she was not even aware that he was speaking, let alone able to understand the distant, addled tone of his voice, and by the time he was near her she was not aware of anything at all.

"Oh dear, oh dear," he mumbled. "That child is always leaving her toys around."

*****

Awareness came upon Eshem suddenly, and she found herself staring at the wall in a darkened room. Human-looking silhouettes were visible in the edges of her vision, barely illuminated by the light coming in through the cracks around a door. She tried to move, only to find herself in the grips of overwhelming paralysis, unable to even turn her eyes in her sockets. Her other senses were dulled to the point where she could hear nothing - if any noise was even being made - and was only dimly aware of something hard against her back and less so beneath her.

Panic welled up in her when she realized that she couldn't even breathe, and it was a long while before she realized that she was aware long enough that, if she had needed to, she would have since died. Stilling her thoughts, she tried to recall what had brought her to this point, remembering that -something- had happened to her before this that robbed her of her mind and consciousness. But whatever the mage had done to cause it, for this to happen, it was either transient or able to be overcome.

The other possibilities not worth contemplating.

Eshem had no means or desire to keep track of time, and no concern for hunger or thirst. She focused on herself, the whole of her body broken down into parts, attempting to overcome or undo what had happened. The eventual minute twitch of her little finger was all the motivation she required to continue, and in silent, shrouded practice, her movement returned. Hands flexing turned to arms reaching, pulling herself to edge of the bed she was on. Swinging legs turned to standing in a room full of too-human dolls, and short, tentative steps in a slow circle culminated in a soundless, creeping advance and a knife sinking into the side of the archmage's neck.

*****

Eshem was changed when the bailiff saw her again: Her skin was uniform in color, with the texture of porcelain, and when she placed the severed ear on the table he could see the segmented joints of her digits. Her elbows and shoulders, too, bore a ball-like structure beneath the cloth of her clothes. He was accustomed to bounty hunters not coming back alive or at all, but never changed.

For her part she had noticed the bailiff staring, and pulled her jacket tightly around her. "Soban Stev," she stated. "Former Kelannan consul to the occupied territories of Raf."

The bearded man tried to act as if he hadn't been staring as he pulled a heavy ledger over, flipping through the pages. "Stev, Stev... Stev, Soban... yes, here we are." He picked up a quill, dabbing it into a well of ink before writing. "He was on the run for a while, wasn't he."

"The missing people were at his hideout. Turned into... this." She flexed her hand for emphasis, feeling the joints move against each other. It was a barely-there sensation of friction, but that she was able to feel it at all was a reminder of her condition. "He thought that they- we were his kid's toys."

He glanced up at her. "His children have been dead for over a decade."

"How?"

"Old age. He probably would've kept his position 'til his grandchildren died, too." He paused in his writing, picking up the ear with a too-casual air and depositing it into a small wooden box. "I'll have some of the sheriff's men investigate where Stev was hiding and see if we can't do something for the poor souls there." He gestured behind Eshem with his quill. "Talk to Quinn for your bounty." As she went to leave the bailiff spoke again. "Eshem."

She turned. "Yes?"

"You and your father did good for this country. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

*****

It was good pay.

It was always good pay, especially considering the risks, but every so often Eshem had moments like this where her mortality was put in a new light, and she needed some time off to reflect and gather her thoughts. Normally it would happen when she was recuperating from an injury, but this time she wasn't injured, just... different. It also meant she wouldn't have to pay for medical treatment, but to be fair, that was never a problem; her austere upbringing meant that she saved a lot on housing, clothes, and food. Her father raised her under a tent, clad her in hides and bartered cloth, and fed her with wild forest-dwelling animals and root vegetables, and frankly anyone who told her that you can't have venison stew for all three meals is spoiled for choice.

Yet as she walked by the merchant's district, an open storefront brought up thoughts she hadn't seriously considered before. She deliberated but a moment, and when she returned home she brought with her a long mirror and a billowing, lace-clad white dress. She had never played with dolls as a child, and perhaps this was an opportunity to make up for lost time.


	6. Bimbo Gass (bimbofication)

"What," JoBeth began, holding up the small container, "on earth," she continued, turning it by its plastic-capped nozzle and inspecting the brightly-colored label, "is this?"

"Bimbo gas!" Maya offered helpfully. Pointing to a part of the label she added, "harvested from real bimbos!"

Palesa blinked. "Harvested... bimbo gas."

"They're free-range," she replied. "One hundred percent organic."

"That's not the problem. It's that it -exists-."

"Yeah, Maya." JoBeth gestured with it. "Why did you give me this?"

"Well. You know how you keep saying that you'd just like to turn your brain off sometimes?" She smiled, tapping the bottle for emphasis.

"So you bought me a novelty item?"

"A novelty item that actually works."

She gave her a look. "You do know that when I say that I'm being rhetorical, right? I enjoy working on the loop quantum gravity project, even if progress is slow at times, and I don't want to lose that." Off-handedly she added, "plus it gets me away from the string theory guys."

"Don't worry," Maya said, pointing to another part of the label. "It's temporary and non-habit forming."

JoBeth stared at her for a bit before shaking her head in defeat. "Alright, how does it work?"

"Just uncap it and stick it in your belly button."

"...seriously?"

"Seriously."

She rolled her eyes but did as she was instructed, pulling off the cap before touching it to her navel. As soon as she did, however, there was the loud hissing of gas as it slid out of her fingers and sank deeply yet painlessly into her. JoBeth let out an "oh!" and her lips pursed as she spoke, plumping up drastically as they faded to a deep red. Her chestnut blonde hair, once straight, grew wavy and more voluminous, fading to a brighter platinum hue.

Her friends looked on as JoBeth pressed one hand to her lips. "This is so unusual." A quiet series of squeaks heralded further change as she suddenly rose higher in her seat, backside and thighs growing plumper. Her hips widened as her ass went well beyond normal scales for anyone's figure, let alone her own, looking more like two balloons stuffed into a pencil skirt that had no business stretching as well as it did. "It's completely... that..." She made a gesture, hand flopping in the air. "That not going on... word."

"Impossible?" Palesa offered.

JoBeth beamed. "That one!" There was a rising rubbery creak, and suddenly her breasts surged outward to the size of her head, hooks and stitching on her bra breaking apart as they bobbed near-weightlessly in front of her, barely contained by her camisole. Awestruck, she cupped them, giving them a squeeze as the light reflected off their rubbery sheen. "Wow. I am so -totally- hot."

Palesa glanced over at Maya. "That's normal, right?"

Maya nodded, then turned her attention to JoBeth. "How are you feeling?"

"Um..." There were a few seconds of distracted, open-mouthed contemplation as she absent-mindedly twirled a lock of hair around her finger. Eventually her eyes lit up as her face expressed nothing short of divine revelation. "Good! I am, like, -so- calm right now."

Palesa was not. "This is... this raises so many questions. Is knowledge a burden? In our pursuit of truth, are we forced to sacrifice our inherent happiness? Rather than elevating us above nature, does wisdom disconnect us from it instead? Even as our ancestors struggled to survive, did their evolution towards more complex brains condemn us to-"

"Oh my GAWWWWD!" JoBeth exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "Stop using big words already!" Standing, she pulled Palesa to her feet, dragging her behind her. "Come on, let's go buy shoes!"


	7. Ghost (possession)

The three young women were laden with equipment when they arrived at the old house: EMF meter, phonopod, infrared thermometers, parascopes, and - just to be on the safe side - a ouija board. It was everything they needed to uncover the paranormal mysteries that laid within and, despite not having the training of professional ghost hunters, they had the confidence to succeed. Of course, professional ghost hunters tended to lack any sort of training themselves, but as they were veritable artists of confidence in their collective trade, the young women were more than halfway there.

Of the three, Ruth and Nora came dressed for the occasion, in track shoes with no loose clothing to speak of. Anna, a bit more skeptical, simply wore a dress and heels, not foreseeing a need to run from something they'd have to spend so much effort just locate in the first place.

"You know," Anna began, scanning the Victorian decor of the entryway, "you wouldn't think this would be the inside based on the exterior."

"True say," Ruth replied. "It looks like someone played Minecraft with concrete blocks out there." She set the box in her arms down on a nearby table, dust billowing out from beneath it before drifting towards the floor. "Where we starting?"

Moving beside her, Nora set the rolled-up paper in her hand down, unfurling it to reveal a new copy of an old floor plan. "Probably around the bedrooms on the second floor." She pointed to one area. "We can set up the EM scanner here and have coverage of all the doors."

Anna leaned over her shoulder, brushing back a lock of red hair. "What's that square in the... basement, I think it is?"

"That was a vat. Of liquid latex."

She stared at her. "Why was there a vat full of -liquid latex- in the basement?"

"It used to be acid."

Anna gave Nora a look of weary disbelief. "Same question, but with 'acid.'"

"I don't know. Frank Lloyd Wright designed it; maybe acid vats were in vogue back then."

"So why not just cover it up or fill it with dirt?"

"Who would buy a house with a vat of -dirt- in the basement?"

"Yeah, for real," Ruth added. "Be serious."

"But if you wanted to check it out," Nora said, "you can set up the infrared thermometer down there."

Anna picked up the folded tripod and the thermometer. "Fine. Even if this turns out to be a bust, at least I'll have seen -something- weird."

*****

For a basement in a potentially haunted mansion, it didn't look too out of the ordinary. There were empty, cobweb-covered shelves against the walls, a forgotten storage chest or two, and while there -was- a human skeleton, it was held up and attached to some sort of complex winch and lever-based system that, Anna guessed, was used to move it around like a puppet for reasons she couldn't even begin to fathom. Then there was the sturdy-looking, square wooden hatch in the center of the room, at least six or seven feet on each side. It was set flush with the floor, with an iron ring on a hinge bolted near one edge. It was either the vat, Anna thought, or an even deeper basement. Setting the equipment down on a nearby table, she crossed the room, taking the ring in both hands and hefting the door open to reveal...

Nothing. Just an empty pit.

Anna shrugged inwardly, closing the hatch again before returning to the tripod. Unscrewing the clamps, she pulled the legs out before securing them again and turned to find a suitable spot before freezing.

The hatch was open, propped up by a metal rod.

She set the tripod down, cautiously approaching the vat. The wider opening let some light filter in, revealing a metal lining on its walls. The surface was oddly smooth, either as a result of manufacturing or the acid wearing away any flaws. Or scratches, she found herself thinking. Aware that it was irrational, but still unable to shake her fear, she folded the rod inward and lowered the hatch lest she fall in somehow. Anna turned away for but a moment to pick up the tripod again, but as she turned back it slipped from her fingers as she felt herself go pale.

The hatch had opened again, all the way back, the emptiness replaced with something dark, reflective, and viscous. A ripple spread outward from the center of the pool, the surface growing more violent as it trembled until finally a blob of -something- rose up, like a droplet hitting the surface in reverse. It lengthened as its surface rolled, three protrusions forming as it took on a humanoid shape: Two tendrils stretched outward, fingers extending at their ends, as the third grew ovoid and the surface more detailed, taking on distinct facial features. When all was done, what hovered in front of Anna was an inky, feminine form with a fluffy mane of hare and a pneumatic, exaggerated figure that would've looked more at home in a cartoon. With every motion her chest bobbed, never quite coming to rest, and her wide hips swayed, everything beneath tapering down to an elongated point like the paint-soaked tip of a brush that swished to and fro.

"Well," the ghost said, her voice honeyed and lyrical. "What have we here?"

Anna stared numbly before shaking herself out of her stupor, taking a step back. As she did, however, the figure swept forward, cutting off her path with a casual grace. Every move Anna made to escape was blocked as the spirit looped around her, studying her intently, and when Anna finally thought she had an opening she swooped up in front of her, her face too close to Anna's.

"You'll do."

Her body did a loop in the air, squeezing together into a thick strand before plunging into Anna's mouth. It was cold and slimy, seeming to dissolve just as soon as it hit her tongue, and as the last of it disappeared into her, her body suddenly felt chilly and clammy. A second later she heard the ghost again, her voice seemingly coming from inside her head. _A bit plain, but I can work with it._

Anna took a few shaky steps towards the stairs, only to be overcome with a sudden disconnect as, at first, her body froze in place, then began to move against her wishes. "Get out of my body!" she shouted.

_Why? Doesn't it feel good?_ As she said this, the chill was replaced with a flush of warmth and a sudden, distracting pleasure as Anna's dress grew more snug around her hips and chest. Without her thinking it, her hands drifted up her curves, cupping her breasts as the fabric took on a more plastic sheen. _Doesn't_ this _feel good?_

Anna blinked, the room shifting in and out of focus as her skin faded to an unblemished porcelain white. "It... feels good," she mumbled. The red of her hair turned more intense as it grew more voluminous, wavy locks brushing against her shoulders.

_It's very relaxing too, isn't it? Just letting someone else move you around._ Her clothing pulled tight as the hem of her dress rose up her legs, turning an inky black. Her breasts swelled until they were on the verge of escape from her top, bobbing with an odd lack of weight. _A chauffeur for your body, hmm?_

"Show... furr..." The words felt odd on her lips, as if they were fuller and more plump than she remembered.

"That's right." The ghost took a moment to relish the words - the first she had spoken with a physical mouth in ages. The latex-like material of her transformed dress let out a quiet creak as her backside, hips, and thighs swelled; her newfound figure would have been eye-catching as it was, but when her waist suddenly narrowed, it gave her an hourglass figure that looked downright cartoonish. "So relax."

_Relax..._

In her newfound body, the ghost smiled inwardly as she felt Anna slip into a quiet bliss. A dusty fully-length mirror provided her with a good look at herself - smooth skin, plump lips, billowing hair, tight clothes, and vivacious curves in clean colors - and she took a moment to admire her handiwork as she reveled in the simpler pleasures of breathing and having a heartbeat. But there were other, more complex pleasures to be had, and Anna's two friends upstairs would serve quite nicely.


	8. Gargoyle (pool toy TF)

For beings graced with long life, preternatural senses, and superhuman strength and endurance, the one thing that tempered the ambition of vampires was the sun. Eternal and inexorable, regardless of their own power and resources all their schemes had to take it into account. Fortunately the mortal world had no such problems with it, and there was no lack of humans who were willing to serve them for a taste - or even the promise - of power. How the vampires viewed these servants was reflective of their own age: The younger saw them as members of a gang, their elders viewed them as foot soldiers, and those who were older still considered them slaves - which, ultimately, was closest to the truth.

One vampire, centuries old, had expanded his territory towards Usterrosk, his former demesne when he was still mortal. His grand manor still stood but, in their indignity, humans had added to and *modernized* it, building a large pool and replacing the masterfully-crafted gargoyles with larger, human-looking ones that seemed more a demonstration of the owner's carnal interests or lack of taste. They would be the first to go, he thought, and he'd personally hurl them off the roof. Thralls were summoned, directions were given, and his servants left for a pre-dawn raid. Whoever the owner was, they would surely overpower him.

What they hadn't accounted for was the gargoyles.

Their stony bodies moved with grace and agility through the air before descending upon them, and their lithe feminine forms belied their strength. Buckshot and knives alike were effortlessly blunted, while their sharp claws tore through flesh. The servants were fanatical, but once enough had fallen they turned and ran, the gargoyles breaking away one by one to return to the manor. The last to remain in the fight was Sheela, who slashed furiously at the roof of one of their vans before it sped off beneath her.

She hovered in the air with a smug sense of satisfaction as she watched them retreat, but as she turned to head back to the manor her expression fell as she spotted the first glimmer of light on the horizon. Sheela surged into motion, wings beating furiously as she sped back, watching with growing dread as rooftop perches were claimed by the other gargoyles. She held out a futile hope that she could somehow outpace at least one of them, even at this distance, but they were dashed as one alighted onto the last spot.

At first the change was so subtle that she missed it in the dim light, as the mottling and flecks of her stone skin faded away, leaving it a uniform gray. The tips of her wings turned pastel purple, the coloring spreading across the membranes and bones before continuing onto her back; by chance she glanced down at her chest just as her breasts changed hue, stopping suddenly in midair to look herself over in shock. As it crept across her arms Sheela tried in vain to wipe it away, even as it progressed down her legs and tail and her entire figure took on a growing sheen.

One firm swipe of her hand created a loud squeaking sound, and she recoiled as her forearms and hands simply puffed up, claws blunting as her digits merged into oversized mitten-like. Her wings beat as she jolted into motion again, her flight slowed as her backside widened, at first looking merely fat, then globular. The width of her hips doubled, then tripled, twin balloons bobbing as she flew, creating an ever-increasing source of drag. The density and hardness of her body was gone, replaced with a hollow softness that was disconcertingly alien to her.

As she crested the front of the manor she felt her wings grow stiff, and she instinctively tried to reach out for something to grab only to find her arms stuck rigidly at an angle in front of her. There was a sudden feeling of helplessness and loss of control as she found herself unable to propel herself further yet just as unable to land - not flying or falling, but simply drifting. Eventually gravity overtook her as her wings shrank and turned to handles, her hair merged into a solid blob, and the contours of face smoothed out. Her panicked expression was replaced with a wide, cartoony grin that seemed almost painted on, and when she touched down in the middle of the pool with a quiet splash she looked perfectly at home as an inflatable floating seat for a lounging swimmer.

Although Sheela couldn't move, she could feel faintly and think, just as surely as when she was a statue. Thus, she was keenly aware of the smug expressions on the gargoyles who had turned to stone, looking down on her in more ways than one.


	9. Gamer Fuel (humanoid plastic soda bottle TF)

If asked about Harmony, Shane replied that she was focused, goal-oriented, self-sacrificing, willing to put in the time to improve her skills, and forward-thinking. This satisfied employers calling for a personal reference, which was good, because it meant he didn't have to explain the details about it: All her focus went towards video games; her goals were centered around getting aces or royale wins; she sacrificed fashion, proper diet, and occasionally hygiene, living with short, messy hair and wearing tank tops and shorts most of the time; and the skills she put effort into improving were split between aiming and impassioned invectives. As for planning ahead, she bought most household needs in bulk so she would have to go out less often. This included controllers, which Shane didn't even know could be purchased by the dozen, as well as soda. Or what he assumed was soda, as Harmony set down a cardboard pallet of it on the kitchen counter.

"Is..." Shane started, not sure where to begin. The liquid inside was a bright, vivid green and matched precisely nothing he had seen in nature. "...is this real?"

"'course it's real," Harmony replied. She slapped the side of the pallet for emphasis. "This is GAMER FUEL."

She wasn't wrong; below the brand name were the words "gamer fuel" in block letters. "'Personalized for competitive gaming and specially formulated to support physical and mental alertness,'" he read.

"It's -great-. Works way better than making coffee with sports drinks."

"So what's in this?" He checked the bottles, finding a distressingly long ingredient list. "I recognize carbonated water, cane sugar-"

"That's how you know it's the good stuff," she beamed. "None of that corn syrup crap."

"-but there's chemicals here that I've never heard of before."

"Oh, big deal." She stripped the plastic from the pallet, removing a bottle before unscrewing the top. "Scientists have made lists of what's in fruit and stuff, and people ended up getting spooked by all the -scaaaary chemical names-." She raised the bottle to her lips, taking a long drink.

Shane's eyes widened in disbelief. "Radium? There's -radium- in this?!"

"Mmf!" Harmony raised a finger for him to wait as she finished drinking. "Yeah. How else are they gonna make it glow in the dark?" She turned the lights off, and sure to her word, the bottles let off a faint luminescence.

"Is this even safe?"

"Would it be on the market if it was? They banned that one drink with caffeine and alcohol in it, but they didn't ban this."

"How long has it been on sale."

Harmony shrugged. "About a week."

"Are you stocking up in case it gets recalled?"

"No, I just normally drink this much."

*****

Shane dropped by Melody's place several days later; not wanting to barge in, he knocked first. There was silence for a bit, and he was about to leave just as he heard a sharp snapping noise followed by Melody bellowing, "BITCHASS MOTHERFUCKER!" After debating whether he should leave or not he knocked again, and after a few seconds Melody opened the door.

She looked different, and not for the better: Her skin was paler, waxy, and almost too smooth, and her freckles faded, replaced with a sickly pallor that was almost green. Her hair looked clean - or clean-ish - but it was clumpy, stuck together in large locks rather than flowing individual strands. If she was sick she didn't act it, as her eyes were still sharp and nothing about her movements was slow. "Oh, hey Shane."

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I was doing MOAB streaks." Grumbling she added, "or I -was-..."

"MOAB streaks...?"

"Yeah, when you get twenty-five kills in a match without dying-"

"No, I know what it is. But you're doing it -in a row?-"

"Wild, right?" Melody gestured for him to come in as she walked to the kitchen. Something about the movement of her shirt made it look like it didn't fit as well, like her chest had grown somehow. "Before this I only had -one-, and that was pure luck." She opened the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of soda. "Gamer Fuel, man. It works wonders."

"Maybe you're just-" Shane stared in horror as Melody chugged the entire twenty-ounce bottle, his words only coming back to him once she was done. "...just practicing more."

"I can practice more because- hang on." She thumped her first against her sternum before letting out a loud, rolling belch that reverberated from somewhere within her. "Because I'm sleeping less."

"You're loaded up on caffeine and sugar, that's why."

"No, I'm still sleeping, but only four or five hours." She tossed the bottle into the recycling bin with an underhanded lob. "Some days I wake up earlier than that and I'm just -wide- awake, you know?"

"None of this sounds healthy."

"I feel fine, it's just that I'm..." She moved her hands forward from either side of her head. "I'm focused, man. I'm in The Zone."

Shane watched her uneasily before speaking again. "Just as long as you're not peeing blood or anything."

"Are you still hung up on the radium?" she asked. "Because there's radium in human bones. I checked. So it's just as important as calcium."

"It's not as important as-" He sighed. "...never mind."

*****

The next time Shane came to visit the door was unlocked and left slightly ajar, and from inside he could hear the sound of gunfire. As he entered it tapered off to triumphant-sounding music, followed by an outpouring of spiteful belligerence spoken across several sub-par microphones. None of it came from Melody, who was laughing over it all. "No, get good though. Get good. Get good. Literally the worst defender and you couldn't handle it. Get good."

"Melody?" Shane called out.

"Yeah, one sec."

When Melody walked into view Shane was struck mute by equal parts bewilderment and horror. The paleness had intensified to the point where her body was clear, transformed into a hollow yet perfectly detailed version of her normal self. Beneath the plastic sheen was a vivid green fluid that was unmistakably the same as the beverage she had been drinking untold amounts of for two weeks straight. However much there was, it didn't fill her fully; there was a pocket of air about an inch or two high at the top of her head, the surface rocking and splashing as she moved. His idle thought during the prior week was confirmed in an unusual way, as she was sporting two heaping handfuls on her chest, enough so that her tank top had a pronounced bit of cleavage sandwiched in it. Judging from the two damp green spots on the front of it, her body wasn't perfectly sealed.

"Shane?" She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Yo, wake up."

"Wha-" He blinked and shook his head; she was still the same. "What happened to you?"

"Some guys were talking shit so I said I could ace them with just Warden." She shrugged and made a "you know" gesture, a quiet yet distinct sloshing sound coming from the liquid within. "I was going to go with Chanky Kang but not after the rework."

"No, I mean -you!- Look at yourself!"

Melody glanced down, looking herself over. "What? What do you mean?" A second later she paused, letting out a quiet, "...oh."

"You didn't even notice!" he exclaimed. "You were so wrapped up in what you were doing and..." He exasperatedly gestured towards her television and consoles. "...and all that that you didn't even see what was going on!"

"Oh, come -on-. Quit nagging." With one hand she pulled the fabric of her top away from her, wetting the fingers of her other on her tongue before dabbing at the green stains. "You act like you've never spilled anything on yourself before."


End file.
